


Luck Is Not Chance

by aibidil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aurors, Case Fic, Empty Nesters, Established Relationship, Felix Felicis, Future, HP: EWE, M/M, MACUSA | Magical Congress of the United States of America, Middle Age, New York City, Non-Penetrative Sex, Parenthood, Post-Hogwarts, Potioneer Draco Malfoy, Potions, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Potions Theory, Veritaserum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 07:17:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11686725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aibidil/pseuds/aibidil
Summary: Being the tale of two 52-year-old wizards who take a dose of Felix Felicis and embark on a cross-Atlantic journey to help their reluctant and bemused Auror daughter on a case.





	Luck Is Not Chance

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to my awesome beta, **tdcat**. Shout out to **LLAP115** for being my last-minute eyes and brainstorming about magical technologies in 2033. And I dedicate a certain scene to **bixgirl1** , who laughed and laughed with me when I found Harry and Draco in an...unexpected predicament.
> 
> Find me at [Tumblr](https://aibidil.tumblr.com).

Harry Potter lay awake on the morning of the 27th of May, 2033. Sunshine was just peeking through the white curtains of the bedroom window, and the early birds trilled a cheerful chirp. He heard a rustle of bed linens from his right and whispered, “Are you awake?”

“Hmmm,” hummed Draco Malfoy, who was laying on his stomach, face pressed into a pillow. “It’s entirely too early to get up, but I can’t fall back asleep.”

“Me too.” Harry rolled onto his side and scratched Draco’s back, hoping to help him achieve full wakefulness.

“Nghhh,” Draco moaned unintelligibly, “don’t ever stop doing that, Potter.”

Harry laughed. “Wake _up_ , you lump. It’s Felix day!”

“I know that—why do you think I woke up so early?” Draco rolled onto his back, dislodging Harry’s hand. He yawned and turned sparkling grey eyes on Harry. “Any last guesses?”

Decades earlier, after Draco had finished his Potions Mastery, he was hired by the Ministry to consult with a team of Unspeakables on a project about Felix Felicis. While Liquid Luck had been invented in the 16th century by Zygmunt Budge, a full understanding of the nature of the potion—particularly of the luck mechanism and the exact specifics of dosage and addiction—had never been achieved by Budge or subsequent potioneers. The Unspeakables had decided to take on the challenge, and they chose Draco to head the project.

Draco spent two years working on Felix Felicis in this capacity, and he was still, nearly twenty-six years after the conclusion of the project, Britain’s resident expert on the potion.

He knew all Felix’s secrets—the intricacies of brewing it, the mechanism by which it operated, and most importantly, the limitations of safe human consumption. Draco’s team’s extensive tests had all drawn the same conclusion—consumption of Felix Felicis was safe at a rate of once per five years. If a wizard consumed the potion more often, ill effects became a near certainty.

And so, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy began a tradition of taking the wondrous potion once every five years. They were about to embark on their sixth Felix day.

Harry rolled onto his stomach, his shoulder landing on Draco’s bare torso. He propped himself up on his forearm and looked into Draco’s eyes. “Honestly, I think my best guess is that, whatever happens, it will be something I did not expect.” He leaned down to place a kiss on Draco’s lips.

Draco and Harry at 52 were happy, vital, and if you asked their twins, Aster and Scorpius, utterly ridiculous. They looked their age—the various scars from their teenage years were joined by a collection of marks that showed not only the horrors of war, but also the joys of life. The skin around Harry’s eyes crinkled with the echoes of a million laughs. Draco’s forehead was carved with lines, as if each raise of a supercilious and teasing eyebrow had been a stroke of a whittler’s knife. When Draco ran his hands over Harry’s back, the skin no longer felt thick and taut like it did so many years ago, but thin and soft—comfortable like well-loved denim or leather. When Harry cupped Draco’s cheek, it was no longer firm and soft around a pointy cheekbone, but rather more squishy and covered with traces of grey among the blond stubble.

They were both still beautiful men. They turned heads everywhere they went, and only in part because of their names.

Draco kissed Harry back for a moment, bringing his hand around to the mess of black and grey hair. But then he pressed his long fingers into Harry’s chest, pushing him away. “Not now,” he smirked, “We can do this anytime.” 

Harry jumped to his feet. “Should we get dressed first or take the potion first? I might choose the wrong kind of clothes for whatever Felix decides to do today.”

Draco swung his legs off the side of the bed. He rested his elbows on knees, chin on hands, shaking off the last bit of sleep. “Potion first. And not only because I like the mental image of taking potions with you in the nude.”

Harry smiled and pulled off his pyjama pants; Draco followed. On the dresser were two crystal phials filled with a potion of molten gold. 

Draco had started brewing this batch a year earlier. Hermione and Ron took the first dose from the batch in November; Aster and Scorpius took a dose in February (“You _need_ Felix to have a good day in February,” Aster had insisted). Now it was their turn, and they still owed doses to Ginny, Luna, Teddy, George, Blaise, and Pansy. The group liked to dispense Felix slowly, following each Felix day with a big dinner party so the potion-imbibers could regale the rest of the group with tales of their lucky days. 

Some Felix days were more exciting than others, but all were lucky. On Harry and Draco’s first Felix day, when they had been 27 with 16-month-old twins, they’d slept for 24 hours, waking once only long enough to have one round of steamy sex. This past November, Hermione and Ron had taken a spur-of-the-moment trip to Hermione’s parents in Australia only one week before Mr Granger died peacefully in his sleep. In February, Aster and Scorpius reported perfect weather, finding lost valuables, and (vaguely) “reconnecting” with old friends. Harry and Draco suspected they hadn’t heard the half of the twins’ lucky February days. “Oh, to be 26,” Draco had smiled when Harry mentioned it afterwards.

“Scared, Potter?” Draco smirked as he picked up his phial.

Harry laughed and approached Draco from behind, wrapping his arms around Draco and pressing his cheek into Draco’s shoulders. “Mmm, no. I love you.”

“I love you too, but hurry the fuck up. Let’s do this.” Draco was characteristically impatient now that he was ready, even though he was the one who had been lounging in bed while Harry was eager to start the day. Draco raised an eyebrow over his shoulder at Harry.

“Alright, alright.” Harry grabbed his phial and raised it towards Draco. “Cheers!”

“Cheers,” Draco agreed. They popped the seals and drank the potion. Draco announced, “Sense of infinite opportunity and confidence in approximately three, two, one…”

They stood expectantly.

Then Harry’s eyes widened and sparkled. Draco stood up straighter. They turned towards each other. “Aster,” they said in unison.

Aster Potter-Malfoy was 26 years old and lived in New York City. Whereas her twin brother Scorpius had coped with having two world-famous fathers by becoming a history buff and Head Boy at Hogwarts, Aster had hated the attention and expectations. She was smart, funny, and hard-working, but at the slightest hint of a comparison to either of her fathers (or to any of her other relations), she shut down. She wanted to be her own person, much like Harry as a teenager had wanted to be just Harry rather than the Chosen One. Aster was a middling student at Hogwarts, but she earned her N.E.W.T.s and booked a Portkey to New York the day after she finished Hogwarts. She’d been in New York for almost eight years, having joined MACUSA’s Auror training program; she was now in her third year as a Junior Auror. 

Harry and Draco had been heartbroken when they saw Aster off to her Portkey to America. Harry had been convinced that they somehow alienated her, pushed her away, that it was their fault she was running away, and he spent weeks beating himself up over it. Draco was sympathetic at first, but a few weeks after Aster left, Draco finally snapped. He sat on their couch with his fingers pressed into his temples. “Potter,” he’d snapped, standing and pointing his finger into Harry’s chest, “Shut the _fuck_ up. We have done nothing wrong. Aster is her own person; she has been her own person since before she could talk. Remember the carrot incident? Remember the _tutu_? We can’t control her. If you try to control her, we will lose her in more ways than mere physical distance. And if you do that,” here he’d paused to let frustrated venom seep into his voice, “I will never forgive you, and then you’ll have lost me, too.” Harry had stood in their living room in tears as Draco walked out, furious. Harry Flooed to Hermione and Ron’s house and spent the afternoon drinking tea and crying about the fact that children grow up and parents have very little say over it. When he’d come home a couple hours later, Draco was waiting for him. “You’re right,” Harry’d said, tumbling out of the Floo, “I’m sorry.” Draco had sighed and wrapped him in a hug. “I miss her, too,” Draco had whispered.

“We need to go see Aster!” Harry smiled, the world feeling in perfect harmony. “When did we last talk to her?”

“She texted me yesterday morning,” Draco said, reaching for his mobile. He looked at his phone and read, _“Père, a pigeon just stole my bagel. What a bastard.”_

Harry snorted. “What did you say back?”

“Come home—I will Floo-order French croissants to replace your unhealthy American carbohydrates with tastier, butterier French ones.”

Harry laughed.

“She wrote back, ‘Ha’ and a kissing face.”

In any other circumstance, an indication that they needed to drop everything and go to Aster would be cause for alarm. But today was Felix day. Harm befalling Aster or Scorpius would be the most unlucky thing that could happen to Harry or Draco; and so both men were confident that their daughter was fine. Only for some reason, the luckiest course of events for the day, out of trillions of possibilities, was to go see their daughter.

“Should we text her?” Harry asked, pulling on a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt.

Draco selected a pair of grey wool trousers. “I have a good feeling about surprising her.”

“It’s five hours earlier in New York,” Harry observed.

“It’s seven now. By the time we get out of here and over to the Portkey and over there…it’ll be an hour or more. That would put us in New York at three o’clock in the morning, plus the time it will take us to get to her place. I don’t know, what do you think?”

“I’m thinking we should just go, though that seems really weird.”

“Felix says go. We can blame Felix if Aster gets stroppy.”

“I have a good feeling about not packing anything,” Harry added.

“We can always buy things there,” Draco agreed.

Neither man was a bit anxious or annoyed, which made a nice change from their usual preparations for trips to New York. Generally, Draco started packing at least three days in advance, driving Harry crazy with his fastidiousness, and then Harry got overwhelmed by the packing, infuriating Draco, at which point Draco would ban Harry from the house until it was time to leave. “Get out of the house right now,” Draco had said last time, “Or I swear to Merlin, I will hex you.”

This unusual acquiescence was one side effect of taking Felix Felicis with another person. There was always a chance that, when two people drank Felix, they would each happily decide to spend the day apart because the luckiest course of events for each of them did not involve being together. This was the case with Hermione and Ron in 2018, when Hermione made a huge breakthrough at work (figuring out how to seamlessly integrate Muggle technology into the magical world, thereby bringing magical communication up to speed with Muggles’) and Ron happened upon Bill and George, who had an extra ticket to what turned out to be the Cannons’ first winning game in a decade. 

But if the luckiest outcome for each of those who took Felix together involved remaining together, the potion caused the drinkers to agree on almost everything because they had the same goal and subconsciously knew the luckiest path to it, eliminating disagreement. Draco’s team had studied this effect extensively; it was one of the most academically interesting Felix-related topics. 

In 2006, Draco published a much-cited article in _Potions Today_ called “The Interaction Between Individual and Group Luck in Group Consumption of Felix Felicis.” In lectures, Draco described the phenomenon with an example: “Imagine two people, one of whom is a rare book collector, take Felix Felicis together. The best luck for each of the individuals involves the same outcome—say, finding a sum of money and using it to take a trip together. As they’re on a walk to find the money they pass a bookshop that has a rare first-edition book. The book collector’s luckiest day involves stopping at the shop. The other person—the person who doesn’t want the rare book—is still in a position where their luckiest day involves a stop at the shop, because their luckiest day requires the presence of the rare book collector.” 

The theoretically difficult bit was determining the threshold at which the group luck overrode the individual luck, or vice versa; Harry was never able to follow Draco’s whirling thoughts on this puzzle. Draco’s work was almost all research these days, and he was still convinced he could create a new potion—a version of Felix Felicis that was intended for a group, wherein the potion could be tweaked during the brewing process to the specific group that intended to take it. He was getting close; he was testing two prototypes (one based on blood magic that used a drop of blood from each of the group who planned to take the potion together, the other based on a Polyjuice-type principle that required DNA matter). Draco had half expected to down the phial of Felix, kiss Harry, and run off to the lab. But, as of yet, Draco and Harry had never parted ways after taking Felix together.

Since they weren’t packing, there wasn’t much to do beyond dress and eat breakfast. The night before, they’d showered and done everything else they could think of to free up time on Felix day. Neither one wanted to waste valuable Felix minutes doing laundry because they’d run out of clean pants. “Luck is not chance, it’s toil!” Draco had been reciting for the past week. Last night they’d even cooked breakfast and left it under a preservation charm. 

Harry gathered up a light jumper and his wallet. Draco grabbed his wand, swished, and an envelope containing American money soared across the house into his outstretched hand. “ _Accio_ passports,” he murmured, and the passports followed. Harry ducked the zooming passports and located the leather duffel bag that Scorpius had bought him for Christmas. Harry held the bag open to Draco, who Levitated the money and passports safely inside. 

Harry waved his wand and his phone sailed through the air and tucked itself into the bag. “Think we should bring any other tech stuff besides our phones?”

Draco looked up. “No. I’m texting Scorpius now.” He read slowly as he typed, _“Dad and I took FF. Going to NYC to surprise Aster. Talk soon.”_

Harry called from across the room, “Tell him I love him!”

“Dad is mawkish and a Gryffindor and says to say he loves you.”

Harry ignored this and said, “Did you pack a coat or jumper? It might get chilly.” Draco was always forgetting and then complaining about being cold.

Draco raised his wand and a cashmere jumper landed in the bag. 

Draco’s phone dinged. “Scorpius says, ‘If you show up at Aster’s flat in the middle of the night, you deserve it if she hexes you.’”

Harry laughed. Draco read as he typed, “Felix says it’s a good idea.” A moment passed, a ding, and Draco read, “Scorpius says he loves you too. Do we have everything?”

Harry thought. “Must be, I’m feeling good. I feel like we should head directly to the International Portkey office. I wonder if our friend Sally will be in today.”

Draco snorted. “It’s our _lucky_ day, Harry, so I would be surprised if Sally is there.” He held out his arm, ready to Side-Along.

“Oh!” Harry started. “Wait!” He raised his wand and a box of biscuits Molly baked yesterday sailed through the air and into the bag. Another swish of his wand and the duffel zipped. “Okay.” Harry smiled at Draco. “Ready?”

Draco leaned in and met Harry’s lips for a quick, intense kiss. “I have the strangest urge to say something inane like—the world is beautiful,” Draco said, his nose crinkled in distaste.

Harry laughed. “We get to see Aster; so yes, the world is beautiful. Let’s go, old man.” Harry held out his arm; Draco grabbed it, and they disappeared from the room with a _Pop!_

* * *

Harry and Draco appeared at the Ministry’s Apparition Point, quickly moving out of the way and walking towards the lifts.

“For once there’s no queue for the lift,” Harry remarked. “I love Felix.”

Draco hummed his agreement. “I wonder why we’re being drawn to New York. Merlin, I hate that city.”

Harry turned with a scowl. “You _promised_ her you would stop complaining about New York.”

“I promised _Aster._ You’ll notice she isn’t here. _You_ , on the other hand, agreed to listen to all of my rants and complaints for the rest of time. It was in the wedding vows.”

“I must have forgotten that line. Was it in between the invocation of the Marriage Bond and the kiss? Like, ‘for better, for worse, through rants and complaints, for as long as we both shall live’?”

“Good grief, no. You’ll remember we didn’t have Muggle vows. I made sure it was part of the Bond. It means you’ll drop dead if you refuse to listen to my complaints—you know, like an Unbreakable Vow.”

(“LEVEL 6: Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Portkey Office, Apparition Test Centre.”)

Harry laughed as they stepped off the lift—they both knew Harry was aware that the Ministry outlawed compulsions of any kind in marriage bonds in the 1960s. 

Draco’s phone dinged and he glanced at it as they walked through the corridor. “It’s Teddy.” (All of their friends and relations knew that Harry was terrible about answering his phone, so they usually texted Draco knowing that it would reach the pair of them.)

“Lemme see,” Harry said, leaning over awkwardly and bumping his shoulder into Draco’s.

_“Victoire and I are seeing the perinatal healer this afternoon. You and Harry keep your fingers crossed! And if it’s bad news, maybe you can come over tomorrow to try to cheer her up?”_

Harry sighed and rested his head on Draco’s shoulder. Seeing your children (or godchild/cousin and niece) in pain was awful, and it didn’t get any easier with experience. “Don’t tell him we took Felix,” Harry said quietly, “because then if they get bad news they’ll _really_ think there’s no way it’ll ever happen.”

Draco texted back, _“Fingers crossed, Ted. And if it doesn’t happen today, we’ll get some of the old Dark Magic books from the Manor and find a way to bend reality to our will.”_

Harry chuckled, reading over Draco’s shoulder. “Have you heard anything lately about the status of their adoption application?”

“No,” Draco shook his head. “You know there just aren’t a lot of magical babies up for adoption.” 

Teddy and Victoire would be happy with a Muggle baby, of course, but it was a painful thing to grow up without magic in the magical world. And not just mentally painful—the magic often caused health problems, which is why most Squibs moved out of the magical world at relatively young ages. Many adult Squibs got migraines when they visited magical family members.

“I’m _sure_ that Rosie would…”

“Harry,” Draco interrupted, grabbing his hand. “I know, but it is _so_ not our place. I will repeat my constant refrain since we became parents: We can’t fix everything for them.”

Harry sighed. “I like to fix things.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I am aware.” 

They walked into the International Portkey Office. The young wizard at the desk choked on his coffee when he looked up and saw Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. 

Harry sighed. At least it wasn’t Sally. “Good morning,” Harry said politely.

“Mr Potter! Mr Malfoy! You’re here bright and early!”

Draco flashed a charming smile. “We need a Portkey to New York City as soon as possible, Mr—I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

The young wizard spluttered again. “I, it’s, my name is Finbar. I, um, I was at Hogwarts with Scorpius and Aster.”

“Ahhh, how lovely,” Draco said. “I will send your regards. We need to go see Aster—it’s quite urgent. So let’s get us out of here, Finbar.”

Harry hid a smile as the poor sod scrambled to fill out the Portkey paperwork. One of the only things that helped Harry cope with the effects of their fame was the way that Draco used it to discomfit people and to get his way. One time when they were first dating, Draco managed to fluster a starstruck bartender so much that she had to leave the room. Harry had laughed himself hoarse, and fallen a little more in love with Draco for making him feel less awkward about his fame.

Finbar grabbed a metal rod from a giant crate; lightweight metal rods were standard Portkeys for travel that didn’t require concealment from Muggles. They were light, durable, and easy for multiple people to grab. Finbar waved his wand at the rod and muttered an incantation. The rod glowed briefly. “That’ll be ten Galleons, Mr Malfoy.”

Draco pulled out the coins and Finbar handed him the metal rod. 

“You can go in,” Finbar said, staring openly at Harry. “It will activate in 120 seconds.”

Harry held out his hand. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Finbar,” he said magnanimously. 

Finbar, eyes wide, grabbed Harry’s hand and shook. “The pleasure is all mine, Mr Potter.”

Draco grabbed Harry’s elbow and pulled him towards the Portkey Activation Room. Once inside, Draco smirked. “If I’d had another couple minutes, I bet I could’ve gotten him to faint.”

Harry laughed. “Come on, let’s go.” He hoisted the straps of his duffel bag more securely onto his shoulder and grabbed the rod. 

Draco held the other end. 

“Any guesses why Felix is taking us to Aster?” Harry asked.

“Maybe she made a treacle tart last night,” Draco said. “That’d be just my luck. Stuck with you on a lucky day, the luck of which revolved around confections.”

Harry laughed. “Maybe she—” But his words were lost as the Portkey activated. Harry grabbed Draco’s waist. They closed their eyes against the sensation of being hooked and jerked into nothingness, then landed with a slight wobble.

“Welcome to Manhattan,” sounded a bored voice with unusual vowels. “Please proceed through the door to Customs.”

Harry clung to Draco for a moment, regaining his balance. 

“Move along, unless you want the 3:26 from Paris to land on top of you!” warned the Portkey agent.

Draco grabbed Harry’s shoulder and led him through the door. Harry smiled widely. “No one yells at me like that in Britain,” Harry chuckled. “I love New York.”

“I fucking hate it,” Draco drawled, “everyone is always bumping into each other and no one gives us the time of day. It does feel right today, though, which is baffling in itself.”

Draco loved the attention from being associated with and married to Harry Potter. Harry hated the attention from being Harry Potter, but loved being with Draco, so it worked. In New York, the routine balance was all off. Then again, they’d never been in New York under the influence of Felix Felicis.

They walked out of the Portkey arrival room and into a large corridor. The windows revealed a completely dark sky. 

“Passports and wands,” the Customs agent said with the tone of a person who was not only half asleep but also acting out of pure habit. Harry _Accioed_ the passports from the duffel bag. They handed over the passports and wands. “State your business,” the agent said, not even blinking at Harry and Draco’s names.

“Visiting our daughter,” Draco answered, pulling out his phone to text Scorpius. _“Made it to NYC.”_

“Are you bringing any magical creatures?”

“No.”

“Any Dark objects?”

“No.”

“Any magical artifacts?”

“No.”

“No-Maj weapons or explosives?”

“No.”

“Magical herbs or potions?”

“No,” Draco answered. 

Harry interrupted. “Actually I think there’s half a Pepperup in here.”

The agent looked up. “Pepperup? _Hey Jim!_ ” 

A frazzled man across the room looked over.

“Pepperup is the same as Cold-Be-Gone?”

“Yeah!” called Jim.

The agent made a notation on the magical hologram screen suspended above his desk and stamped their passports with a MACUSA stamp. “Welcome to New York; you’re free to come through.”

Harry and Draco made their way through the building and out onto the sidewalk. Though it was half past 3 o’clock in the morning, the city was lit and people bustled past them on the sidewalk. Harry chuckled as Draco grumbled about something (subway grates? neon lights? Harry’d lost track). 

“Oh good, I’ve really missed that smell,” Draco drawled, wrinkling his nose.

“Get out all your grumbling now, before we get to Aster’s,” Harry said with a smile. “You haven’t mentioned the taxis yet. Or the street hot dogs.”

“Oh _Merlin,_ the street hot dogs on every corner—Harry, you know better than to get me started on those. But I refuse to waste any minutes of this Felix-induced good mood thinking about those evil sausages.”

Harry laughed and slung his arm around Draco’s waist. “Want me to Apparate us to Aster’s?”

Harry was better than Draco at both navigating New York (Draco could’ve learnt if he wanted, but made a point of refusing to learn) and tasks that required a large amount of magical energy, like Apparition. When they first started dating, Harry’s ease at magically taxing tasks had bothered Draco, drawing out his competitive spirit. But within a few months, Draco had realised it was much more pragmatic to simply take advantage of Harry’s power. 

Draco walked into an alley and held out his arm. Harry grabbed it firmly, turned, and they landed in a different alley with a _pop!_ The magical population of New York was mostly concentrated in the Upper East Side. Aster’s flat was on 93rd Street in a Muggle area, not far from the magical district, a few blocks from the Park. 

“I still don’t feel safe with her here,” Harry admitted, looking around.

“Aster is an Auror and a hell of a witch,” Draco said pointedly. “You know you needn’t worry.”

“I know but—” Harry said, “—I wish she were closer. Actually I prefer when we’re all within _Protego_ proximity.”

Draco snorted. They walked into Aster’s building and pressed the button for the lift. The building was quiet in the early hours of the morning as they rode up to the eighteenth floor and exited on her hall. 

As they approached Aster’s door quietly, some combination of Felix and Harry’s Auror instincts kicked in. Harry had quit the Aurors more than twenty years ago, but the instincts from his time on the force still manifested in times of stress. 

“Draco, get behind me, something is going on. Listen.” He pulled his wand and cast a sound amplification charm. 

“…Can’t even trust me!” Aster’s voice yelled, but then stopped abruptly.

“Oh come _on_ , Ast,” said an angry, male, New York voice.

Harry and Draco hated this man, with his belligerent tone, immediately. 

“Ast?” Draco hissed, aghast at the nickname. “How dare he?”

“Hold on,” Aster was saying, “The wards.”

Harry shushed Draco, but the door flew open. In the doorway stood Aster Potter-Malfoy, long dark hair flowing behind her. She was wearing a pair of boxer shorts and, inexplicably, a New York Jets t-shirt. Her wand pointed threateningly into the hall. When she saw the two men standing in front of her door, she exhaled, lowered her wand, and looked to the sky.

“Er, surprise!” Harry cried lamely.

“Jesus mother of Merlin,” Aster mumbled.

Behind her stood a handsome man who looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He was bare-chested in a pair of pyjama pants. His wand was in his hand, but he looked petrified. 

“Fathers,” Aster greeted. The man’s eyes widened behind her. “It is,” she looked over her shoulder at the clock, “3:48 in the morning. What are you doing here?”

“Oh stop your theatrics, young lady,” Draco said with a lecturing tone, then raised an eyebrow at her with a small smile.

She closed her eyes for a moment, sighed, and held her arms out wide. Harry threw his left arm around her right and squeezed; Draco leaned forwards to kiss her left cheek. She squeezed Harry back while returning Draco’s kiss. 

“I missed you,” Harry whispered with his face pressed into her long hair. 

“I’ve missed you guys, too,” she conceded, pronouncing “guyze” almost like a native New Yorker. 

She turned around. “These are my dads, Harry Potter”—Harry gave a wave and a sheepish smile that was somehow also a bit menacing—“and Draco Malfoy”—Draco looked down his nose in the best impression of Lucius he’d given in years. “Dad, Papa, this is Glenn.”

Glenn—half-naked and quarreling with Aster in the middle of the night when her two intimidating fathers showed up at the door—looked like he wished the floor would swallow him whole.

Draco, who’d had it out for Glenn from the moment he heard the sobriquet “Ast,” strolled into the flat and immediately began to roll up his sleeves. “It’s warm, darling, isn’t it?” He unbuttoned the cuff of his left sleeve. “I never quite get used to this New York weather.” 

Harry had to hide his smile behind his arm as Draco began rolling up his sleeve, but even from behind his arm he watched Glenn’s face so as not to miss the moment when Glenn saw the Dark Mark. Glenn didn’t disappoint, the blood draining from his handsome face as the Dark Mark, still jet black and ugly after all these years, came into view.

Draco moved on to his other sleeve. “Did you know, Glenn, that Aster’s dad,” he inclined his chin towards Harry, “defeated the greatest Dark wizard of the last fifty years at the age of seventeen? I don’t know how good your international studies courses are at Ilvermorny, but he’s commonly referred to as the most powerful wizard in Britain. Maybe in the world, though we haven’t had much opportunity to test that. Aster doesn’t like to brag.”

Glenn looked on the verge of a panic attack. 

Aster turned to Glenn. “You should go,” she said shortly, waving her wand to Levitate a bunch of clothes and a pair of shoes to him. 

He grabbed the clothes and stumbled to the door. “It was, um, nice to meet you,” he said. “Aster, I’ll—.”

“Just _go._ We’re through, anyway.” She waved her wand and the door shut in his owlish face.

She crossed her arms imperiously over her chest, as if attempting to imitate adolescent Draco, but she couldn’t help the smile that creased her face. “What in Salazar’s pants are you two doing here?” she demanded.

Draco’s face melted into the open, genuine smile that was reserved for only Harry, Aster, and Scorpius. “Aster, my darling, my love. Is that how you greet your revered fathers?”

Aster rolled her eyes, but the crinkle at the corners of her mouth betrayed her amusement.

“Aster,” Harry said with a big smile, “we’re totally hopped up on Felix Felicis.”

Aster’s eyes widened. “And you came _here?”_

“I know!” Draco said. “We downed the potion, looked at each other, and both immediately said, ‘Aster!’”

“Well, at least you didn’t wake me up,” she said. “I don’t suppose you brought a Wideye potion with you for this 3am social visit?”

“I think I have half a Pepperup,” Harry offered. 

She scowled, _Accioing_ a potion from her bathroom. She caught it and downed the potion. “My life is a wreck,” she whinged, throwing herself onto the sofa.

Harry caught Draco’s eye. Draco raised a brow. Harry tilted his head to the side.

“Oh will you two stop with the silent conversations and just come over here and get it over with?”

Draco sat on Aster’s left. “Get what over with?”

“Whatever it is that you’re here for.”

Harry flopped on Aster’s right. “We don’t know why we’re here. We’re just letting Felix set our schedule.” He threw his arm around Aster’s shoulders. “What’s wrong? Maybe we’re here to shower you with unconditional love and affection?”

Draco’s phone dinged. He glanced at it. “Scorpius wants to know if you’ve hexed us.” 

“Tell him it was a close thing.” 

Draco typed quickly, then tucked his phone in his pocket. “But, Aster, seriously, who was that buffoon?” he asked. “I know that dad and I are a tiny bit intimidating, but he was the most affected I’ve seen, of any of your love interests. He looked like he was going to vomit.” Draco chuckled at the memory.

“He’s not a _love_ interest, papa,” Aster groaned into her hands.

“Well, love, sex, whatever. You know we don’t care who you have sex with. He just seems a bit pitiful, doesn’t he?”

“Go ahead, give me a lecture about how Aster Potter-Malfoy needs the best partner, with the best brain, the best muscles, the best magic, the best family, the most money, the biggest penis, the most love—.”

“Aster!” Harry gasped with a laugh. “We’re not going to lecture you. We’re certainly not going to assess his penis. Although you do deserve the best. The very best.” 

Aster smacked him, but smiled.

“Please tell me,” Draco said carefully, “that you’re still properly taking the contraceptive/protection potions.”

“Papa!” Aster snapped, annoyed. “You’ve been making me those potions since I was fourteen, no matter how many times I told you I wasn’t having sex in _fourth year_ for Merlin’s sake, because that’s how important it was to you. You think I’m going to suddenly stop now? Do you really think I’m that self-destructive?”

“No, no, of course not. You know I trust you. I just—” Draco let out a sigh. “I really don’t fancy becoming a grandfather to a child with those bloodlines.”

Aster scoffed.

Harry leaned forward and whispered, with a vicious smile, “Okay, _Lucius._ ”

Draco narrowed his eyes at Harry, but Harry only smiled.

“But why’s your life a wreck, Aster?” Harry asked, turning serious. “It makes me sick to see you like this.”

Aster turned her head towards Harry, keeping it propped in her hands. “Dad, I’m _always_ like this. Busy and stressed and with idiot lovers.”

Harry held up his hands defensively, but kept his mouth shut in a way that generally took years of parenting to master. Draco grabbed her hand. They waited.

She sighed. After a minute she started talking. “I’m on this big case at work. I can’t talk to you about the specifics, but it’s getting really stressful. The stakes are high. My boss is worried about our safety. She thinks these criminals might target the Aurors on the case. Then I get home and this fool Glenn doesn’t show up for our date, then he shows up at midnight expecting to come in. Anyway, I’m an idiot and let him in and we blah blah blah, but then he starts prying around in my personal life. I caught him trying to look at my phone! I’ve barely gone on three dates with him and he’s going to snoop on me? That’s when you showed up. Thanks for interrupting, actually. That probably would’ve gone on a lot longer otherwise.”

Harry pulled her into his embrace and stroked her air away from her forehead like he had done when she was a little girl with an illness. Draco walked into the kitchen to start a pot of tea like he had done when she was a teenager with social angst.

“’M really fine, you know,” Aster mumbled into Harry’s shoulder.

“Of course you are,” Harry said soothingly, but he caught Draco’s eye above her head and rolled his eyes. Draco smiled.

“You smell like home,” she said quietly.

“Oh!” Harry said, pulling his wand to Levitate his duffel bag to the sofa from its spot on the floor by the door. He reached inside the bag and pulled out a box. “Fresh biscuits from Grandma Molly!” he enthused, with the tone of someone who was revealing a very valuable prize.

“Chocolate?” she asked.

“Of course,” Harry said, handing her the box. She smiled, sat up, and grabbed a biscuit. “Mmmm, I missed these. I miss the family. I need to try to get off work more to come visit.”

“You know we’ll pay the Portkey any time you want to come, even if it’s just for Sunday dinner at the Burrow,” Draco called from the kitchen.

“I know,” she said simply.

“Oh, look,” Harry said, his voice dripping with faux pity. “Poor Glenn seems to have left his bag.” Harry pointed at a bag on the bed that was obviously not Aster’s.

“Oh, how terrible,” Draco drawled, Levitating over three mugs of tea. Aster laughed.

“So tell us about this case,” Draco said, cupping the mug.

“Yeah,” Harry said, with increasing interest. “Maybe we can help,” he offered, not knowing why he was saying that.

Aster snorted. “Maybe you can help? My potions-researcher father and my retired-from-the-Aurors-for-over-twenty-years father are going to be an asset to the MACUSA Auror force? What do you think we need, a paper on the effects of the quality of Chizpurfle fang on the potency of Wiggenweld Potion? Or a history lecture about politics in Britain in the 1990s?”

Harry narrowed his eyes and pointed a finger at her. “Don’t make fun! We’re powerful!”

“And virile!” Draco added.

“And important!” Harry said.

“No offense,” Aster said, shaking her head with a smile, “but really, I don’t think you can help. And I can’t tell you anything else. You know they take classified information seriously here—I’m under a Liplock charm.”

“Well,” Harry said with a confident smile, “then you’ll have to take us in to see Weiss. I have a really good feeling about going in to see your boss.”

“Yes!” Draco said. “Yes! Felix says yes!”

“Oh, Merlin,” Aster mumbled, sipping her tea. She looked at them carefully for a moment, realising that their Felix-given determination would win out eventually. “Fine, but not at 4 o’clock in the morning.”

The family, having not seen each other in months, passed the next two hours drinking tea, chatting on the sofa, and eating Molly’s biscuits. Harry and Draco tried to bring Aster up to speed on all of the family gossip, but she knew most of the information already, having been in frequent contact with her brother, cousins, grandparents, aunts, and uncles. Aster may have moved across an ocean, but it would take more than that to shake off the family ties of the Weasleys and the Black sisters.

“Have Teddy and Victoire heard from the Healer yet?” she asked quietly.

“They should today,” Harry said.

Aster hummed and rested her head on the back of the sofa, closing her eyes. “Is no one else going to rent out their womb? Because it’s starting to feel like I’m going to have to do it.”

Draco’s eyes widened. “Aster…you’re an Auror. You can’t possibly be the best choice, if it comes to that.”

Her green eyes snapped open. “Well you don’t see anyone else offering, do you? And I, of all people, should probably pay it forward. It’s not like Scorpius can.”

Draco’s face softened. “Salazar, but you are your dad’s daughter, sometimes, Aster.”

“In the good ways and the bad,” she smiled, throwing her arm around Harry’s shoulders.

“Hey!” Harry objected, but hugged her close.

“Did Scorpius tell you two about this guy he’s pursuing?” Aster asked with an affected casualness, knowing that her words would evoke interest. She sipped her tea.

“What?” Draco and Harry cried together. They saw Scorpius at least three times a week for dinner, but he was notorious for being tight-lipped about his personal life.

Aster laughed. “I wish you could see your faces. Seriously though, some guy named Elsior.”

Harry jumped out of his seat and sat back down promptly. “ _Elsior Boot?_ No _way._ Why didn’t he tell us?”

Draco leaned back on the sofa, his arm sprawled over the back. “Well, well, well. I didn’t know Scorpius liked younger men.”

Aster cackled, enjoying herself. “First, obviously, _this_ is why he didn’t tell you. Second, isn’t Elsior like, 21? 22? Whatever.” She waved her hand dismissively. “It’s all perfectly legal.”

Draco turned to Harry. “We saw them together a month ago, remember? At the fundraising gala?”

“I didn’t even know Elsior was gay!” Harry cried. “I thought they were friends!”

“Dad,” Aster said pointedly, “You _never_ know. You are oblivious. You know I’ve long thought it’s a miracle that you ever realised Papa liked you.”

“My daughter is very perceptive,” Draco said with a smirk.

“Oh, sod off, both of you,” Harry said with a smile.

“Anyway, Scorpius tells me that he’s dropping hints and flirting and Elsior hasn’t made it clear how he feels.”

“We should Firecall Terry and invite them over,” Harry said to Draco.

“Dad, _no!_ ” Aster cried. “You know how hard it is for Scorpius to date, looking like mini-Papa and having you two as parents. Strangers sending him love potions by owl. Leave him alone. If Elsior isn’t fawning over him, maybe it could actually work out.”

“Fine,” Harry relented. “I will keep my mouth shut.”

“I know that’s hard for you,” Aster said with a smile. She excused herself to get ready for work. When Aster came out of the bathroom twenty minutes later, showered and dressed, she found her fathers snogging on the sofa. Draco lay between Harry’s legs and Harry’s hands were threaded in Draco’s hair.

“Salazar!” Aster yelled. “And Helga, Rowena, and Godric, too!” She threw her arm over her eyes. “I thought you two would stop acting like randy teenagers when you got to be over fifty.”

Draco raised himself off Harry, but didn’t actually stop touching him. They looked at Aster with faux innocence.

“And I thought,” Draco drawled, “that you’d stop being the biggest cockblocker known to wizardkind after you moved out of the house, but here we are.”

“What did I do to deserve dealing with you two while you’re high on Felix?” she muttered, gathering up her things.

Draco and Harry got up off the sofa. 

“I feel really excellent about leaving now, even though it’s still early,” Harry said. “Does Weiss get to the office early?”

“Sometimes,” Aster said, grabbing her bag. “We can go now. But I need to Floo first and get them to open the Floo for you, so wait until I text you, okay?”

“Sure thing, boss,” Harry said with a salute.

Aster rolled her eyes and, smiling, disappeared into the Floo.

* * *

Five minutes later, Harry came through the MACUSA Floo, followed by Draco. Harry was holding Glenn’s forgotten bag.

Aster stood in front of them, next to two other MACUSA officials, looking authoritative in her work environment. Harry looked at Draco with a “can you believe our child is so grown up and important?” look, to which Draco responded with an elbow to the ribs and a “not right now, we can’t embarrass her” look.

Draco reached his hand out to the woman next to Aster. “Draco Malfoy, and this is Harry Potter; we’re Aster’s parents. Pleased to meet you.”

The woman shook his hand firmly. “I’m Olivia Cartwright, assistant to Hortense Weiss, the Head Auror. We all _love_ Aster, so it’s lovely to meet you!” 

Harry shook her hand, a warm smile on his face, then turned to extend his hand to the man on Aster’s other side.

“Ben Wiley, Aster’s partner,” the man said. He was in his mid-thirties and appeared remarkably boring.

Aster was impatient with the introductions. She turned to Olivia. “Can we go in to see Auror Weiss?”

Olivia Cartwright smiled. “Yes, go ahead, go ahead. It’s early, so she doesn’t have any appointments for awhile yet.”

“I’ll see you in a few, Ben,” Aster said.

She stepped between her fathers and grabbed each of their elbows, leading them through the halls without letting go, as if afraid that they would wander off like untrained crups if they weren’t restrained. Her fathers didn’t mind, happy as they were to be near their daughter and seeing her workplace. (She’d never let them visit her at work before.) And the confident determination of Felix was telling them only to follow Aster down the hall.

“Dad, why did you bring Glenn’s bag?” Aster asked quietly as she steered them around a corner.

“I dunno,” Harry shrugged. “It just felt like the right thing to do, you know?”

“No, I don’t know,” Aster responded, looking at Harry with an amused and exasperated smile.

“It’s really a shame you didn’t take Felix today, too,” Harry said with a shrug.

Aster chuckled as she knocked on an office door.

“Come in!”

Before opening the door, Aster turned a warning look on her fathers. “Please, please, be good. This is my boss—my career. We’re not in Britain—people won’t treat you like gods here.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “You do not need to lecture us like children, young lady. We always carry ourselves with comportment and proper etiquette.” He glanced at Harry. “Well, at least _I_ do.”

Harry snorted and gestured to the door. Aster closed her eyes for a moment as if gathering strength, then opened the door.

“Auror Weiss,” Aster said, “I’d like to introduce my fathers, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.”

Hortense Weiss stood behind her desk, a look of curiosity on her face. She held out her hand. “Hortense Weiss, Head Auror at MACUSA. Pleased to meet you.”

Draco and Harry each shook her hand in quick succession.

“Please sit,” Auror Weiss said politely, conjuring an extra chair.

After they’d sat, Harry, spurred on by his Felix-induced confidence, plowed right in. “Auror Weiss, you’re a busy witch, and I don’t want to waste your time with pleasantries. Draco and I took Felix Felicis this morning. We immediately knew we needed to come to New York to see Aster, and once we got here it became clear that we needed to come and meet you. I believe we may be of use on the case that Aster’s been working on. We know nothing about the case, of course, only that we know we should be here.”

Aster looked supremely uncomfortable. “Auror Weiss,” she said with a weary sigh, “Are you aware of my fathers’ history? That this is _the_ Harry Potter, who defeated Britain’s last big Dark wizard, Tom Riddle, in infancy and again at age seventeen, who holds the Order of Merlin First Class, who was an Auror with the Ministry of Magic for over ten years, rising to the rank of Deputy Head before quitting and thereby scandalising wizarding Britain? And that this is _the_ Draco Malfoy, Potions Master and world’s foremost expert in Felix Felicis and inventor of more than ten original potions, youngest winner of the Potions Association’s Lifetime Achievement Award?” 

Weiss had a small amused smile on her face that reminded Harry of Professor McGonagall. She looked over her browline glasses. “Yes, Aster, I’m well aware.”

“Harry’s also a ten-time winner of _Witch Weekly’s_ Most Charming Smile Award,” Draco said with a smirk. “You forgot that, Aster.”

Aster shot Draco a menacing look, but Weiss laughed. 

“Gentlemen,” Weiss said. “So why are you here?”

“Have you ever taken Felix Felicis, Auror Weiss?” asked Draco.

“No,” she replied.

“It’s a sensation that is difficult to describe. The potion identifies the luckiest course of action for the person who takes it. But the person cannot sense the end of that luckiest course, only the next step. So when we took the potion, we knew immediately we needed to go to Aster. Then sitting with her, we knew that we had to come here. We think maybe you will find us useful on your current case, though we cannot be sure that’s it exactly. We know for sure only that we should be here now.”

“You should grant us clearance,” Harry said. “That seems right.”

Draco nodded his agreement.

Weiss looked between the two men, then at Aster. 

Aster raised her arms in a gesture that seemed to say, “Don’t ask me.” 

Weiss wrapped her right fingers around her chin. “Well, it is highly unusual. But the truth is that we’ve just had a breakthrough in the Belladonna case that requires potions expertise, and the coincidence seems too much to ignore. Our resident potions expert is…not of Mr Malfoy’s caliber.”

Draco smiled and gave a gesture that seemed to imply, “But who is?”

“If I do a quick background check and a quick identity check, you’re willing to work today and see what this Liquid Luck can do for us?”

“Absolutely!” Harry enthused.

“You realise I can’t pay you,” Weiss added.

“We don’t need money,” Draco answered. “It’s our luckiest day to be here right now. We only want to have our luckiest day, and if our luckiest day helps Aster and MACUSA, all the better.”

Weiss tapped her wand on her desk. “Olivia, please get expedited security clearance for Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.”

A moment later a voice returned, “Right away, Auror Weiss.”

“Alright then,” Weiss said, “identity check. I have your consent?”

Harry and Draco both nodded. She waved her wand and Harry’s magical aura lit up. Weiss’s eyes widened a bit at Harry’s aura, which was, as always, surprisingly strong. She waved her wand again and then pointed the hologram screen, where a report on Harry’s magical signature appeared. She repeated the process with Draco. 

“Good,” she said, “when Olivia gets back, we can check that the signatures match, and then I’ll grant you clearance. This case is a nightmare, to be honest. I’m glad someone actually wants to be working on it. How are you finding New York?”

Harry turned an amused eye on Draco, wondering how Draco would answer such a question. Draco pressed his lips together and looked like he was about to spin a tall tale of epic proportions. Harry, not wanting to hear it, spoke first. “New York is lovely, Auror Weiss, though we’ve not seen much of it thus far on this trip.”

She nodded. “I’d love to get back to London. I was there a few years ago for the International Conference of Aurors.”

Just then Olivia knocked and entered the office, blessedly sparing them all from any further small talk. “Here you go, Auror Weiss.” Olivia waved her wand and documents appeared on Weiss’s hologram screen.

“Thank you, Olivia.” 

The hologram screen displayed the clearance documents and the magical signatures Weiss had just taken, and indicated that they were matches. 

“Perfect,” Weiss said with a smile. “Let’s do this.” She waved her wand at screen. “Harry James Potter, clearance level 10, project 27A, time limitation: today only.” She paused, then, “Draco Lucius Malfoy, clearance level 10, project 27A, time limitation: today only.” She looked up. “Congratulations, gentlemen. You’re on the case. You answer to Junior Auror Potter-Malfoy.”

Aster turned to them with a devious smile. “Oh, I am so going to enjoy this.”

Harry laughed. Draco pointed at her, saying, “Don’t expect me to fetch coffee for you, young lady.”

Weiss stood up. “Conference room 4 in ten minutes. Go.” As they stood to leave the room, they heard Weiss’s _Sonorused_ voice pronounce, “Aurors on the Belladonna case, conference room 4 in ten minutes!”

Aster walked from the office, her fathers following her. When they were out of earshot of Weiss, Harry turned to Aster. “This is _so much fun!_ ” 

“Dad,” Aster said, “this isn’t _fun_ , this is my _work._ ” 

“Work can be fun.”

“Okay, sure. Then why did you quit?”

Harry shrugged. “Because it wasn’t fun anymore. But this is fun! For one day, anyway.”

Draco laughed, pulling Harry close to him with an arm around his waist.

“Did you miss it, after you quit?” Aster asked, looking over her shoulder as she led them into a huge conference room.

Harry gave her a quizzical glance, surprised at the question. “I missed certain parts of the job, but my priorities had changed. You and Scorpius were six and Papa was busy working.” Harry shrugged. “It was hard for me to be away, knowing I could get hurt.”

“And it was hard for _me_ , knowing you could get hurt,” Draco said, decades-old bitterness seeping into his voice.

“I just wasn’t having fun anymore, and I wanted to be with you and your brother. I knew you had less than five more years at home until you left for Hogwarts. I thought about what my parents would’ve done, if they had the chance. Or what I wished I could’ve had, I guess. I knew I could do consulting when I wanted to; it’s been good. You know I’m happy, Aster.”

“I would miss it,” Aster said simply, sitting down at the conference table. Draco and Harry took the seats on either side of her.

“So what are these meetings like?” Harry asked, looking expectantly at her. “Screaming matches? Insult-flinging?”

Aster raised an eyebrow at Harry and pointed a finger at him. “You are not allowed to talk.” She rounded on Draco. “Neither are you.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at her. “Is that demand in your capacity as our progeny or your capacity as our temporary boss?”

“Both,” she said, smiling.

Aurors began to file into the room. Most of them held giant cups of coffee, which caused Draco to mutter under his breath about New Yorkers and their coffee, though he did purse his lips in silence upon receiving a look from his daughter. Wiley, looking somewhat annoyed that he couldn’t sit next to his partner, sat next to Harry.

A few moments later, Weiss came in with the most cavernous mug of all. She arranged herself at the head of the table. “Okay, folks, we’ve got some new evidence. But first, introductions. Aster, will you introduce your fathers?”

As all of the eyes in the room focused on her and her fathers, Aster seemed to visibly stop herself from cringing. She had inherited some of that Black-Malfoy composure, after all. “These are my fathers, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. If you don’t know who they are,” she took a breath, “Harry defeated Britain’s last Dark Wizard when he was seventeen and Draco is a renowned Potions master. They are here because they took Felix Felicis this morning, and apparently their luck is to bother me.” 

Some of Aster’s colleagues chuckled, looking with interest at the family dynamics of a colleague who almost never shared personal details at work.

“They’re on Felix Felicis right now?” a young Italian American wizard asked, with obvious interest.

“Yes,” Aster replied, “and somehow it has brought them to this case. So as much as I hate to say it, we should probably give them the benefit of the doubt if they have any weird hunches.”

“Okay, enough chit chat,” Weiss interjected. “We’ve finally compiled all of the missing potions ingredients reported by dozens of different sources. The problem is, we have no idea if all of these ingredients are tied to the case. Some of them could be unrelated thefts. And some of these weren’t stolen from shops, but rather skimmed off the top of shipments. The more we look into it, the deeper this seems to go. Jones, take a look at this list, and when you can’t figure it out, let Malfoy see it. We need to try to figure out what they’re planning.” 

Weiss Levitated a paper over to the wizard who must be Jones. Jones appeared to be not even two years out of school and bewildered by everything. He looked at the paper for a moment, but his face went red. Finally he looked up and squeaked, “I can’t do this with everyone looking at me! Can I take it to my office?”

Weiss snapped, “We don’t have time for that. Give it to Malfoy.”

Harry tried to hide his smile.

Draco picked up the paper delicately in his slender fingers, clearly relishing his role as competent elder. He began listing potions ingredients quietly, but no one else in the room seemed to be following anything he was saying. Finally he looked up. “It is an unusual combination, but these ingredients would allow a potion to activate in the presence of magical signatures.”

“So it would allow you to identify people who drink it? That makes no sense,” Weiss said impatiently.

“No, no. It would detect whether the person who drank it was a witch or wizard.”

Everyone just stared at Draco, clearly needing more information.

“Imagine you had a potion to replenish a depleted magical aura,” Draco said in his teaching voice. “If you gave that to Muggles, it would kill them. But if you combined it with these ingredients, you could theoretically make it activate only if the person were a witch or wizard.”

“Papa,” Aster said, “why would a bunch of criminals be interested in something like this?”

“I don’t know,” Draco said, looking at the list again.

Harry picked up Glenn’s bag and began to rifle through it. 

“Dad, do you have a warrant?” Aster asked, irritated.

Harry looked up and flashed her a huge smile. “This bag isn’t evidence; it was sitting in your apartment. I don’t need a warrant. I just have a really good feeling about looking through it.”

Aster started to look a little uncomfortable as her Felixed father began to look through her lover’s bag (ex-lover’s bag) in a conference room while discussing a serious case. 

Weiss looked at the two men with curiosity. “Alright, while Mr Malfoy is figuring out the puzzle of the potions ingredients, I want Rodriguez to give us a run-down of what we know about the thefts.”

Rodriguez dutifully began a report, and Aster divided her attention between listening to her colleague and keeping an eye on her fathers, one of whom was writing notes on the page of potions ingredients, and the other of whom was pulling a stack of papers out of Glenn’s bag.

“But what about the Belladonna?” Draco muttered. 

Harry picked up each sheet of paper and placed it down in a second pile, systematically examining each one. Most of them were covered in numbers. Reports, it seemed, of some boring corporate variety. But then Harry picked up a blank sheet of paper and stilled.

“This paper is magicked,” he said, turning it over and looking at it from all sides.

“Dad, you’re being paranoid,” Aster whispered.

Harry shook his head. “No, I can feel it.” He waved his wand at the paper, casting revealing charms at it. It began to glow softly. After a minute, he succeeded in breaking the charm and the paper’s contents appeared. “It’s a map,” he said, looking at it closely. Harry looked up at Weiss. “Auror Weiss.”

“Yes?”

“I just found a paper that had been charmed to look blank. It’s a map. I’m—somehow I’m sure this is related to the case. I can’t exactly say _why_ I’m sure….”

Weiss sprang into action, flicking her wand at the map and magnifying it onto a big blank wall behind her.

“What are we looking at, people?” Weiss demanded.

The map was of the United States, and there were dots and squares all over it. Everyone in the room struggled to get a closer look.

“I’m zooming in on New York,” Weiss said, and suddenly only the New York portion of the map filled up the wall.

“We’ve got dots in the Bronx, Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Staten Island,” a middle-aged wizard said.

Weiss was in her element; it was clear why she was Head Auror. She yelled, “Someone get the maps we have on file of the city—subway, bus routes, trains, fire stations, police stations, magical places, etc—and superimpose them; see if we can figure out what the dots are indicating! Muccari, Rodriguez, go!” 

Two Aurors jumped up and ran out of the room. 

Weiss was still staring at the map. “It doesn’t look like the dots are on any magical places of import. Nowhere near this building. It doesn’t look like No-Maj places, either. It’s not the World Trade Center or the Empire State Building. Or Liberty Island.” She was talking to herself more than to the rest of them.

“It’s not the airports,” a young witch offered.

Muccari and Rodriguez ran in carrying a stack of paper maps. Muccari waved her wand at the top map and it superimposed on the wall. “As of yet we only have these stored on paper. This one’s the subway system.”

“Not a match,” Rodriguez said, waving his wand at the next map. “Fire stations. Nope.”

Weiss rested her chin on her hand, looking at the wall as a series of maps flashed, not lining up with the circles on the map Harry had revealed. Harry, for his part, was barely paying attention. Felix was content for him to sit and watch the proceedings. Draco still puzzled over the potions ingredients.

“Bus routes,” Muccari said. “Nope.”

The map changed again. “Water supply system,” Rodriguez said. There was a pause. “Shit. _Water supply system!_ ”

“Fuck,” Weiss said. “Malfoy—if this potion was put in the water supply, what are we looking at?”

Everyone—even Jones, allegedly MACUSA’s Potions expert—looked expectantly towards Draco.

“Well, it depends what they’re mixing it with. If it’s a ton of this belladonna, it could poison the water supply. But that’s not quite right.”

“Draco,” Harry said suddenly, spurred on by Felix confidence. “What if the potion was not meant to activate in the _presence_ of magical signatures. Could it be the other way around?”

Draco leaned across Aster to look at Harry. “Shit.” He looked at the list again. “Yes.”

Weiss looked at the two men, bewildered. “Fill us in, gentlemen.” 

Draco turned. “They’re planning a mass genocide of Muggles. Only those with a magical signature would survive this potion.”

The room was silent.

“Let’s see the rest of the map again,” Weiss said. “Zoom in on another city.”

“San Francisco,” Rodriguez said, waving his wand at the map. 

Weiss tapped her wand on the desk. “Map of San Francisco water supply, immediately!” she yelled.

Harry picked up the stack of Glenn’s papers and rifled through them again. He started casting spells at another sheet of paper.

A moment later, Olivia ran in with a map. Weiss projected it onto the wall. It aligned with the marks on the map. “ _Fuck,_ ” she whispered. “Cartwright, get the President over here right now.”

Olivia ran out of the room, and Weiss snapped into action. 

“Brown and Weinstein, Shah and Garcia, go to conference room 2 and scour this map and figure out what’s going on with the rest of the country.” Weiss Duplicated the map four times and Levitated them across the room. The four Aurors scurried out.

“Wiley—”

Harry, completely unconcerned with interrupting the Head Auror, butted in. “I revealed another document. It’s runes. And arithmancy? I’m rubbish at this.” He passed the paper across the table to Weiss.

“Okay,” Weiss said, taking in the new information. “Don’t we have a new genius arithmancer? What’s his name? Gordon? Gordon, Gordon—Gordon Wolf.” She tapped her wand on the desk. “Olivia, get Gordon Wolf in here in two minutes, I don’t care if he’s at his grandmother’s funeral, his own wedding, _two minutes!_ ” 

Aster grabbed the paper, staring at the runes for a moment. “It’s no use; I don’t remember any of this.”

A moment later, the door burst open and a young wizard in his late twenties burst through the door. He was wearing a fashionable pair of glasses and looked altogether like a hot librarian. “Auror Weiss,” he said.

“Wolf. Ongoing, urgent case. Idiots planning to poison No-Majs through the water supply. We’ve got a page of runes and arithmancy. Tell me what it says.” The paper landed on the table in front of him and Weiss began barking orders to the Aurors left in the room. Wolf caught Aster’s eye as he picked up the paper, pushed his glasses up his nose, and Conjured a quill and parchment.

In the middle of all this hubbub sat Harry and Draco, feeling completely at ease with the world due to the Liquid Luck coursing through their systems, and their daughter, who was drumming her fingers on the table, annoyed at being made to sit with her fathers rather than help.

“Potter-Malfoy,” Weiss said in a gentler tone, after assigning tasks to everyone else. “This man in whose bag your father just found incriminating evidence? We need you to go to the Pensieve Extraction Office. It’s within your rights to choose which Auror to bring with you as your witness.”

Draco and Harry stiffened. Draco drawled, “Excuse me. What?”

Weiss, impatient, snapped at him. “Mr Malfoy, you are not part of this Auror force. Aster knows the rules. She’s been targeted, and we take security very seriously. We need to examine her memories to make sure we’re not missing anything that could help the case.”

“Can you do it?” Aster asked Weiss. “Or are you too busy?”

Weiss started to walk to the door before Aster was even done talking. “I’ll do it; I want a look at this asshat. Let’s go.”

Aster jumped up and looked back at her fathers as she left the room. “Don’t worry; it’s fine. Standard procedure.”

When the door closed behind Aster, Harry and Draco were left alone in the conference room with Gordon Wolf. Harry moved to Aster’s seat next to Draco.

“This Gordon bloke is pretty fit, eh?” Harry whispered. “And Weiss called him a genius. We should hook him up with Aster!”

“She would murder you if she heard you trying to set her up with a colleague,” Draco hissed back with a grin. He stole a glance across the table. “He is fit, though. It’s not weird that we’re constantly talking about how good-looking our kids’ love interests are, is it?”

“Oh, it totally is,” Harry replied with a shrug. “Whatever.”

Draco’s phone dinged. He pulled it out and glanced at it. “Scorpius told Hermione that we came to New York and she wants to know if Aster’s hexed us yet.”

“Tell her not yet, though we’re well on our way.” Harry laughed. “Also tell her to please bring a salad for dinner tomorrow.”

Draco’s elegant fingers typed the message. Harry reached over and rubbed Draco’s thigh. A moment later, the phone dinged and Draco snorted. “She says be nice to Aster or she’ll bring the salad with the pomegranate seeds.”

Harry groaned. “Anything but that.” They sat in silence for awhile, then Harry continued, “I feel really weird. Like I’m totally happy to be sitting here doing nothing, and not stressed at all. But that’s really weird in the context.”

“Yes, it’s bizarre. I think I need to write a paper on Felix in crisis situations,” Draco said thoughtfully. “Hold on—I need to write that down.” He grabbed his phone again and typed a note.

“So Gordon,” Harry said loudly. Draco looked up, surprised, but with eagerness written all over his face as he looked between Harry and the young arithmancer. There was nothing Draco loved more than watching Harry intimidate people. Harry continued, “How long have you been at MACUSA?”

Gordon looked up from his parchment, his quill stilled. “Just a few months, sir. I finished my Arithmancy Mastery only last year at Hogwarts.” 

Draco leaned forwards. “At Hogwarts? Excellent! Did you study with Septima Vector?”

“Yes, sir. I really should….” he gestured at the parchment and trailed off.

“Oh, of course. So sorry to interrupt,” Harry said.

“So are you married?” Draco asked. Gordon coughed, and Harry flicked Draco’s leg under the table. Draco flicked him right back.

“Um, no sir. Single. Being holed up studying arithmancy isn’t exactly conducive to the dating scene.”

“You know, Aster has found the exact same thing being an Auror,” Draco said with an elaborate air. “She doesn’t seem to mind, of course—loves her job and is damn good at it, as you may know if you’ve had the pleasure to meet her. Have you? Tall, slim, long brown hair, top scores on the Auror exams, green eyes you could lose yourself in? Regardless, I know her time will come soon.”

Harry had to hide his smile behind a file folder.

Poor Gordon’s cheeks flushed. “I have met her a couple of times, sir, and she seems very nice and, um, competent, too.” He turned back to his parchment, looking up quizzically at Harry and Draco a few times.

“I give it two weeks,” Draco whispered to Harry. “Now that I’ve planted the idea. That bloke has been holed up with Vector in a tower somewhere. He’s going to blow for sure.”

Harry laughed, loud and brilliant. “I love you,” he said, leaning over to kiss Draco’s neck directly behind his ear.

“Mmmm, of course you do.”

“Anything from Teddy?” Harry asked.

Draco glanced at his phone. “No.”

Just then the door burst open and Weiss and Aster returned. Weiss pointed her wand at her throat, casting a Sonorus. “Aurors on the Belladonna case, back in room 4, now!”

Weiss resumed her place at the head of the table and turned to Harry and Draco. “You should be proud. This Glenn character very skillfully tried to pry information from Aster without alerting her to his motives, but she acted exactly as she should have.”

“I can’t believe that I didn’t realise what was happening,” Aster grumped, sitting in the seat next to Harry.

“Accept compliments, Aster,” Draco whispered in his Narcissa voice. 

“Auror Potter-Malfoy, it happens,” Weiss said simply. “You acted as you should’ve.”

Harry smiled and put his arm around Aster’s shoulders, but Aster shook him off. “Dad, I’m at work,” she whispered.

Harry held his hands up in a defensive gesture. “Sorry, geez. I wish I would’ve known when you were three that there would come a day when you weren’t trying to hug me non-stop.”

Aster rolled her eyes. Draco grabbed Harry’s hand under the table and squeezed. Harry made jokes, but Draco knew he missed the days when a hug from Dad could solve any problem in their children’s worlds. 

The other Aurors finished rushing into the room. 

“Garcia, fill me in,” Weiss demanded.

“All the major cities have dots that correspond to the water supply systems. We think every city with a central water supply has been targeted, but we didn’t have time to check all of them. The rest of the country is marked with a different notation at various intervals, but we haven’t been able to figure out if it corresponds to anything. Probably their plan for distributing the potion to people without central water supply.”

Weiss sighed. “Okay. Where are we on where to find these assholes?”

“Excuse me,” Gordon said. “I’ve got this Arithmancy worked out.”

“Go ahead, Wolf.”

“It’s a fairly complicated use of Arithmancy, combined with some runes, to determine the most opportune time for an upcoming event. And it looks like what they came up with, given their use of the Pinker coordinates, which is controversial and I would argue probably not the best choice given what we know from Sluper et al. (2029)—but sorry that’s not important, the important thing is they think the most opportune time is Friday.”

“ _This_ Friday?” Aster asked.

“Yes, as in, a number of hours away.”

“Fuck,” Muccari whispered.

Weiss hopped into action. “Okay, we’re fanning out across the city to the spots on the map. We can’t be sure the perps are based in New York, but it’s our best guess.” She tapped her desk with her wand. “Cartwright, contact the NYPD and get them on the lookout for what we think ‘Glenn’ looks like from the Pensieve evidence. He was probably using Polyjuice or glamours, but we need to be thorough. Muccari and Rodriguez, you go to this spot in Brooklyn. Brown and Weinstein, the Bronx. Shah and Garcia, Staten Island. Richards, you’re coming with me to Manhattan. Wiley, Potter-Malfoy, you’re going to this spot here.” She pointed at the map to a spot in Manhattan. “It’s not one of the water supply spots, but it’s marked here with some sort of notation. No rock unturned.”

“We’re going,” Harry and Draco said immediately.

Weiss looked at them, assessing. After a few long moments, she sighed and nodded. “Fine. We could probably use your expertise, and you’re on Felix Felicis so the risk is minimal.”

Olivia poked her head into the room. “Head Auror Weiss. The President is here.”

Weiss called over her shoulder as she walked out of the room, “Everyone get ready to leave. I’m briefing Tinsley and we’re all leaving in,” she looked at her watch, “twelve minutes!”

Aster jumped up to gather her gear. Draco nudged Harry and pointed subtly across the table, where Gordon was looking at Aster.

“Someone’s got hungry eyes,” Draco whispered.

“Well you practically offered your child to him on a silver platter, Draco,” Harry hissed back. “You can’t blame the man for salivating.”

“ _Fathers,_ let’s go!” Aster called from the door. 

Harry scrambled and Draco rose elegantly. “Coming, boss!” Harry quipped.

* * *

Exactly twelve minutes later, everyone was outfitted with Charms to allow communication between different groups. They all stood around Weiss at MACUSA’s Apparition point. 

“Everyone has their emergency Portkeys?” Weiss asked.

She was met with a chorus of nods.

“I want everyone checking in with me with quick reports every five minutes, understood?”

More nods.

“If you don’t find anything, document what you see and meet back here. Be prepared for combat. We have no idea what these sociopaths are capable of.”

Weiss approached Aster and, in a quieter voice, said, “Potter-Malfoy, you’ve got untrained people with you. You need to be extra careful.”

“I’m not untrained,” Harry grumbled under his breath. 

Weiss shot him a look. “Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy. You will defer to Junior Auror Potter-Malfoy. You will do _everything_ she says, do you understand? Or you will stay here.”

“Agreed,” they replied.

When Weiss turned her back, Harry and Draco glanced at each other. They both very well knew that they would defy Aster in about a million different scenarios, if they thought that doing so would protect her. But Weiss didn’t need to know how deep their proclivity for rule-breaking ran.

“Alright, everyone in positions!” Weiss barked. “We’re leaving in five, four—.”

Aster grabbed Harry’s arm; Wiley grabbed Draco’s. 

“Three, two, one, go!”

Aster and Wiley turned on the spot, and the world went tight and black. When they emerged on the other side, they were outside an abandoned-looking warehouse. Aster and Wiley immediately began checking for activity and traps. 

Draco whispered in Harry’s ear, “Merlin, I don’t miss when you used to do this. Trying to concentrate on work or the children but my imagination flooding my mind with images of you getting hit with curses.”

“You always did have an overactive imagination,” Harry whispered back, but he grabbed Draco’s hand and squeezed reassuringly. 

“Honestly,” Harry continued, raising his wand and scanning his eyes over the area, a _Protego_ forming in his mind even as he carried on a conversation, “I try not to ever think about Aster working. I just imagine her in New York eating street hot dogs and strolling through Central Park. In my mind she just goes to Broadway shows and looks at Courbets at the Met.”

Draco smiled. “Yes, exactly. Except I imagine her being attacked by pigeons and developing food poisoning from the street hot dogs, too.”

Harry snorted.

Aster and Wiley stood in front of the door to the warehouse; Aster motioned for Harry and Draco to join them. When they stood behind her, she pointed at the door. “Look, it’s covered in wards.” Aster waved her wand, revealing a thick cross-hatch of shimmering magic. 

Wiley raised his wand, ready for the grueling task of systematically dismantling the wards without triggering any spells.

Draco reached his hand out and touched Wiley’s arm. Wiley jumped. “Sorry,” Draco said. “Just, you ought to let Harry do this.”

Wiley stepped away from Draco’s hand, annoyed, and turned to Harry with suspicion. “I don’t think so,” he said.

Aster looked between her partner and her dad. “Ben, you might want to just let him try. He’s...well. You’ll see.”

Wiley stared at Aster for a moment. Then, annoyed, gestured at the door. “Have at it,” he grumbled.

Harry was always amazing at dismantling wards, which was a task that required skill as well as a large amount of magical power. But today he was also lucky, which meant that there would be no trial and error or tinkering to figure it out.

Harry grinned. He loved this stuff. 

Aster looked at her dad with interest. She knew he was a powerful wizard, but her life hadn’t given her much opportunity to see him as anything but “Dad.” She relished the chance to see a glimpse of what he had been like before she was born. She hated the idea that he’d given up who he was to be a dad. She didn’t realize—because she was a child and, like all children, could never see past her own perspective of her parent—that being an Auror was never who Harry was.

Harry held up his wand and the air surrounding the group changed. It seemed staticky, full of potential energy. He closed his eyes and the wards that Aster had made visible pulsed with magic. Then Harry opened his eyes, waved his wand—once, twice—and the wards dissolved.

“Holy shit,” Wiley said, staring at Harry. “That would’ve taken me at least thirty minutes.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair, though he didn’t seem sheepish at all. He seemed confident and pleased. 

“Brilliant, Dad,” Aster said with a smile, then opened the door and led the group inside.

Harry beamed. Praise from his daughter! He turned to Draco. “I got a ‘brilliant, Dad!’” he whispered.

“It _was_ brilliant,” Draco replied. Then he leaned forwards until his lips brushed Harry’s ear and breathed in a low voice, “Do you know how hot I find your magic, Potter?”

Harry turned around with a grin. “Yes, I do. But don’t talk to me like that right now because you’re distracting me. I really don’t need to be half-hard in the middle of a fucking case. It reminds me of trying to get through Potions in eighth year when we were partners.”

Draco laughed, scanning the hallway they were now in. It was empty. “Merlin, I loved that class. Sometimes I think my greatest life achievement was when I caused you to fall out of your chair in the middle of Slughorn’s lecture on boomslang skin. I know I’ve received a lot of awards since then, and raised two children, but how could I ever top that?”

They had to stop talking when they got to the end of the hallway. Aster and Wiley cast a series of revealing charms, but no one was in the building. 

Aster, knowing that Harry was uncommonly talented at sensing traces of magic, said, “Dad, which way should we go?”

Harry closed his eyes for a moment. “There’s a bit of magic all around this building, but most is coming from downstairs.” 

“Okay, let’s go down first, then,” Aster said. “Let’s stay together. We don’t want anyone to be alone if they storm in here.”

Weiss’s voice sounded in their ears. “Wiley, Potter-Malfoy. Status?”

Wiley replied, “We’re in the building. It’s empty. We’re investigating now.”

“Report back in five,” Weiss instructed, and then was silent.

Aster found the stairwell with a locating charm and the group proceeded downstairs. When they emerged from the stairwell, they found themselves in a large office. It was tidy and unremarkable.

Wiley pointed his wand at one of the desks and began to incant a stream of revealing charms checking for magically hidden objects. Aster walked to a wall of cabinets and traced her hand along the handles.

“There’s definitely something weird here,” Aster observed.

Harry stepped forwards, inclining his head and trying to get a sense of the traces of magic in the room. “I feel like I’m in a cave with Dumbledore,” he muttered. “Magic always leaves traces.”

Aster looked over her shoulder. Harry didn’t talk about Dumbledore often.

“I think we’re looking at Transfiguration, not glamours or something.” Harry raised his wand. “Though seems like they’ve somehow magicked it to be unresponsive to revealing.” He waved his wand. All the neat piles of paper, the blotters, and the cups of pens began to morph.

Tables were strewn with computers, tablets, and papers; empty cauldrons and evidence of potion-making were everywhere.

“I would’ve tried that next,” Wiley said, a bit defensively. Aster laughed.

Draco peered in the cauldrons, trying to get a sense of what they’d been used for.

Aster and Wiley began to catalogue the contents of the room. Aster cast charms at the papers, sending copies back to the Auror offices. “Look at this, Ben,” she said, and Wiley started reading over her shoulder.

Harry touched Draco’s elbow and pointed to a door at the far side of the room. “I have a really good feeling about that door.” They walked across the room.

Draco grabbed the handle and they peeked inside. Harry let out a long, low whistle. Inside was a storeroom, filled with potions ingredients and thousands of phials of potions. One wall of shelves held what looked like aerosol cans.

Draco stepped inside and Harry followed. As soon as Harry was inside the door, the door slammed behind them. 

“Dad! Papa!” Aster yelled, but then all was silent as the door sealed.

“Well fuck,” Harry said, looking around after trying the handle. “That doesn’t seem very lucky.”

Draco sighed. “Alright. Let’s try to get out of here, shall we?” 

They both picked up their wands and started casting spells around the room, but nothing was making a bit of difference. In fact, nothing seemed to be happening _at all._

“Draco, I don’t think these spells aren’t _working_ —I think there’s something wrong with our magic.”

Draco pointed his wand at Harry. “ _Tarantallegra._ ”

Harry’s feet did not start to dance. 

“Fuck,” Harry sighed. “No magic in here.”

Draco pulled out his phone. “Phone’s dead. Magical devices require the presence of magic to work.” They stared at each other blankly for a few moments.

“Well,” Harry said, trying to be optimistic, “At least we’re on Felix and I don’t feel too concerned about it.”

Just then a piece of paper appeared in the crack under the door. Harry picked up the paper and read aloud. 

_“Dad, Papa: We’ve seen this type of cell before, and we know how to get you out, but we need to go back to MACUSA for supplies we don’t have on hand. Be back in 15–20 minutes.”_

Draco’s face slowly broke out into a sly smile. “Harry, I think we _are_ lucky,” he drawled, running a hand down Harry’s arm lightly. Harry shuddered, and Draco’s smile grew even more devious. He leaned forwards and whispered in Harry’s ear, “Did I ever tell you how I used to fantasise about having sex with you during a case?”

Harry’s eyes widened and he stumbled backwards, his arse bumping into the shelf of potions phials. He shook his head. “I don’t believe you did. Why don’t you tell me about it?” he said, one corner of his mouth turning up in a leering smile.

“Well,” Draco said, reaching for Harry’s top button, “you’re incredibly sexy when you’re acting all powerful. And you used to look so good in your Auror uniform. You looked all official and dangerous.”

Harry reached both hands up to grab Draco’s biceps.

“I used to imagine,” Draco said, leaning down to press an open-mouthed kiss to Harry’s neck, “that I would find myself at one of your investigation sites, and that you would be all powerful and somehow I’d end up buried in your delicious arse. Before or after you caught the terrible, bad criminals.”

“Oh, really?” Harry asked, his voice a bit breathy. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before? We could’ve role played!”

“Well, you know, I also hated that you were an Auror. I didn’t want to encourage it. The human brain is a complex organ, Potter.”

“Of course,” Harry laughed, reaching around to grab Draco’s waist and pull him closer. “So, fifteen minutes locked in a criminal’s storeroom waiting to be rescued fits that fantasy fairly well, I’d say.”

“Fuck yes,” Draco said, smiling as he finished with Harry’s buttons and pressed his hands to Harry’s warm torso.

The early days of their relationship, when Harry was still an Auror, had been a struggle. They hexed each other and fucked and didn’t know what to do with the intensity of their love. They argued about safety and worried about losing each other to injury or betrayal. But over time, they each made concessions—the most notable of which was Harry’s quitting the Auror force—for the stability of their relationship. They wanted their family to be a bedrock of love and support for each other and for their children. They wanted what they didn’t have when they were children. Their satisfaction with those choices now shone through their faces in everything they did—in their fondness for each other, in their comfort in the world, in their snarking that no longer morphed into actual duels, in their sex that no longer felt like a grasping and terrified plea for the other not to leave.

Harry laughed, breathless, and reached for Draco’s trousers. 

“And we’re stuck in a magicless cell, so we can’t even resort to spells to get the clothes off fast,” Draco said with a grin.

“Mmmm,” Harry agreed, “it’s like forced foreplay.” He slowly unzipped Draco’s trousers and pushed them down, reaching inside to firmly grasp Draco’s cock.

“Oh, _Merlin_ ,” Draco groaned. “How long has it been since we’ve had sex somewhere that wasn’t our bed?”

“Too long,” Harry answered, dropping to his knees and licking around the head of Draco’s cock.

Draco groaned, but then demanded, “No, stand up—I want to suck _you_.”

“No, I want to suck you,” Harry said.

“No! I want to suck you,” Draco insisted.

Harry laughed and stood up, holding Draco’s waist to prevent him from dropping to his knees. “How about we….” Harry reached down and unfastened his own trousers, pushing them down to his knees. He tugged Draco forwards and wrapped a hand around both their cocks.

“Ngghhhh,” Draco groaned. “Wait, hold on.” Draco squatted down and reached into his trouser pocket, returning with a tube of lube. “I honestly don’t recall why this was in my pocket. I didn’t put it there this morning.”

Harry laughed and leaned forward with sparking, crinkled eyes. “It’s our lucky day, Malfoy.” Harry held out his hand and Draco squirted some lube into it, then threw the tube onto the ground. 

Harry covered their cocks with the lube, drawing a shiver out of Draco, then happily began to stroke them together in earnest. Draco grabbed Harry’s face between his hands and their lips met in a heated kiss. 

In the hundreds—thousands?—of times they’d had sex, there had been many times when kissing was abandoned in favor of other pursuits. Sometimes tongues were occupied elsewhere, or bodies were positioned in ways that didn’t allow mouths to meet. Sometimes their lips hovered near each other without touching, hot breath panting between them. Sometimes cheeks rubbed together, stubble scratching, and lips touched ears. Sometimes mouths rested on chests, pressing kisses to pectorals and chest hair and collarbones. Sometimes lips whispered into ears; sometimes lips screamed obscenities.

But other times, like now, the entire sexual act seemed to stem from the meeting of lips and tongues. Draco’s hands cupped Harry’s cheeks and Harry captured Draco’s lower lip in his teeth, biting softly. Draco deepened the kiss, pressing his tongue inside. They could be together for another 34 years—they would never tire of kissing each other.

“Mmm, faster,” Draco breathed, just barely pulling his mouth away from Harry’s to speak before connecting their lips again. Harry obliged, his hand on their cocks picking up speed, his other hand grabbing the back of Draco’s thigh just where it met his ass.

“Ah, _fuck,_ ” Harry moaned. “Let’s change positions.” He pushed Draco away, knelt down to retrieve the lube, and handed it to Draco with a smirk. Then he turned around, bracing his forearms on the shelf (only vaguely aware that he was in danger of shattering dozens of potions phials and that it would take quite a bit of luck, which Felix would probably provide, to avoid that mess), and pushing his ass out towards Draco invitingly. “Slick up my thighs, come on.”

Draco groaned. “Harry, you’re going to be the death of me.”

Harry looked over his shoulder at Draco and chuckled. “Come on, come on. We don’t have a lot of time.”

Draco squeezed some lube onto his hand and spread it between Harry’s thighs, and then rubbed what remained on his hand onto himself. With the ease of a couple that has done it countless times, he pushed his cock in between Harry’s thighs; Harry adjusted his feet so he could press his legs closer together. Draco leaned forward, resting his chest on Harry’s back, and reached around to grasp Harry’s cock. Harry moaned. 

“ _Fuck_ , Draco.”

Draco dropped his head to Harry’s back as he thrust into the heat of Harry’s slick, muscular legs. Harry pressed back into Draco, and—hot breaths and throaty moans—within two minutes they were calling each other’s names through the force of their orgasms.

Draco, panting, rested his head on Harry’s back. “Oh, Merlin, that was good.” He rubbed his left hand, which was clean, along Harry’s arm.

“Mmmmm,” Harry agreed. 

After a few moments, their breathing started to return to a normal rate, and Draco stood upright. Harry followed, turning around and smiling. Then a look of small horror crossed his face. “What the fuck do Muggles do to clean up after sex?” Harry asked.

Draco looked at Harry, his hair mussed, Draco’s semen dripping down his inner thighs, his own semen coating his trousers (and part of the shelf). Draco burst out laughing. “Oh, Potter. You should see yourself.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “You wanker.”

“If I remember correctly, I was wanking _you._ ” 

“You _wanker,_ ” Harry repeated with emphasis, “this is as much your fault as mine, help me clean up!”

Draco got his laughter under control and began to search the storeroom for something with which to clean up. “I’d _like_ to clean you up with my mouth, but I don’t think we have that sort of time. And I don’t really fancy Aster walking in on that.”

Harry snorted, looking behind the phials. “A towel, a handkerchief, _anything_!”

“Paper?” Draco asked, with a half-disgusted look on his face, holding out a sheet of office paper he’d found on the shelf. “Hold still.”

“Oh Godric, you’re going to give me a paper cut.”

“Just shut up and don’t move, you prat,” Draco said, attempting to scoop some of the semen off Harry’s leg using the sheet of paper. The paper bent and it dripped back onto his legs, at which point they both started laughing uncontrollably.

“You suck at this,” Harry whined between laughs.

“Well excuse me for being unskilled at Muggle ablutions,” Draco drawled, crumpling the sticky paper and throwing it into the corner.

“Fuck it,” Harry said, “I’m just going to put my clothes back on and when we get out of here we can clean up with magic. We just have to make sure Aster isn’t looking.”

Draco sighed. “She’s a grown-ass woman. She can handle it.”

Harry winced as he pulled up his pants and trousers. “I feel bad for Muggles.”

“Well they would probably be prepared for this eventuality. They’re not morons.”

“True. This doesn’t seem particularly _lucky_ ,” Harry said, poking at his sticky trousers, “Does it?”

“Well,” Draco said, transitioning seamlessly into his teaching voice, “that’s an interesting point. Felix Felicis cannot guarantee an absolutely lucky series of events. It can only find the _most_ lucky series of events. Therefore, in this case, the balance of luck must have decided that the luck of finding time to have sex—the luck of getting lucky, as it were—outweighed the negative of being left with sticky trousers. I think what we can glean from this is that our only chance of finding a few minutes in which to have sex was the series of events in which we got stuck in this magicless closet. Because if there was a possibility of having sex _with magic_ , that would be _more_ lucky. But that was apparently not a possibility. I suppose I am appreciative of the orgasm, if it was this or nothing, despite its sticky end.”

“Easy for you to say,” Harry said, pointing a finger at Draco, “you’re not the one stuck feeling like a teenager who just woke up from a randy dream.”

Draco laughed. “Dream about this often in Gryffindor tower, Potter?”

Before Harry could respond, the door suddenly creaked open. Draco abruptly stopped laughing and yelled, “Aster Carina Potter-Malfoy, don’t open that door any farther!”

“Ummm,” Aster’s voice sounded from beyond the now half-open door, “Why?”

“Don’t ask impertinent questions, young lady!” Draco said, and Harry burst into laughter. Draco continued, with a half smirk in Harry’s direction, “Please walk away from the door and turn your back to us.”

“Oh Jesus fucking Merlin,” Aster spit out. “You had sex in there, didn’t you? You’re having sex right now, aren’t you?”

“What did I say about impertinent questions?” Draco replied.

“No we’re not, Aster,” Harry called, “Er, not anymore. Just give us one minute.”

Aster’s sigh could be heard from inside the closet. “Okay, we’re turned around.”

Draco pocketed the lube from the floor and Harry finished buttoning his shirt. They walked out of the storeroom and immediately both started casting _Scourgifies_. When they were finished, Harry kissed Draco’s cheek quickly and Draco Vanished the sticky office paper from the floor of the storeroom. 

“Okay, you can turn around,” Draco said. 

Aster turned around, arms crossed over her chest, irate. Ben Wiley was red as a beet and looked like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world. 

“You couldn’t keep it in your pants for twenty minutes, could you,” Aster said sternly.

Harry ignored her, as Felix clicked something in his brain. He asked instead without preamble, “Do you know anything about aerosolising potions?”

Aster looked surprised, but answered. “Yeah. We recently had some researchers at MACUSA figuring out how to aerosolise potions so that they could easily distribute health-promoting potions like inoculations over a wide area. It was in the papers.”

Harry looked at Draco, then back at Aster. “There’s a ton of potions in here, and a bunch of what looks like aerosol cans.”

The door from the stairwell burst open and three wizards bolted into the room, wands drawn, firing hexes. 

All four drew their wands, but before anything else could happen, Harry shouted, “ _PROTEGO!_ ” and an enormous shield, dazzling in its intensity, surrounded Harry, Draco, Aster, and Wiley. The shield was a shimmering force, holding fast in a half-sphere around them.

The other wizards were shooting off a barrage of curses, but Harry’s shield dissolved them one after another.

“Don’t cast anything,” Harry said, his voice mostly calm. “It could rebound off the shield.”

Never moving his wand holding the shield, curses shattering off it, Harry raised his left hand. With an enormous show of concentration, he wandlessly disarmed the wizard who appeared to be the leader.

Aster’s jaw dropped. Ben Wiley looked like he was about to require medical intervention. Draco alone of the three of them was not surprised by Harry’s display of power, though he suspected he was the only one in the room to feel turned on by the display.

Harry, still holding the shield charm, disarmed the two other men. Once they were disarmed, Harry said in a low voice, “Dropping the shield in three, two, one…” As the shield dropped, Aster blocked the stairwell, Wiley shot an _Incarcerous_ at the leader, Draco hit another with a powerful _Stupefy_ , and Harry shouted “ _Incarcerous!_ ” at the third stooge. 

The criminals were incapacitated. Aster sent Silencing spells at them for good measure, then she and Ben turned to look at Harry and Draco. They all stood in silence, catching their breath, for a few moments.

Wiley, looking at the Aster and her parents, finally broke the silence. “What the fucking hell.”

Draco smiled. “We never tried to hide that we’re a very powerful family.”

Harry laughed; Aster ran a hand over her face and groaned, “Papa.” 

“Are you okay?” Harry asked, looking between Aster and Draco.

“Peachy,” Draco said. “That was impressive, Potter. I think I could get some good money from Pornseive Inc. if I sold a Pensieve memory of you just then.”

“Oh shut _up,_ Papa. Can you stop being gross for five minutes?” Aster snapped, pulling Harry in for a hug. 

Wiley activated the communication charm to ask for backup, and within a minute the place was swarming with Aurors. They confiscated the potions and Apparated the apprehended criminals back to MACUSA for further questioning.

Aster instructed the group to finish scouring the building, cataloguing the contents of the rooms. She walked into the storeroom, carefully keeping the door open behind her, only to rush out two seconds later shouting, “Nope! Nope! Nope! One of my fathers is cataloguing the storeroom!”

Harry glanced out of the side of his eye at Draco, and they peeked into the storeroom. They’d forgotten to clean off the shelf.

* * *

When they Apparated back to MACUSA, they found controlled chaos in the Auror department. Weiss was coordinating reports from the field (the other locations had been scouted by the criminals, but luckily they were not yet laced with potions). 

“Potter-Malfoy! Potter! Malfoy!” Weiss stopped, shook her head. “That sounds ridiculous,” she muttered. “Come to my office.”

They followed Weiss back to her office and related the story of what had happened at the warehouse (omitting only what had happened in the storeroom). 

“Excellent work, all of you. Any time you want to use Felix Felicis to help MACUSA, we’re happy to have you.” Weiss smiled.

“I’m afraid it will be five years until we can take another dose,” Harry said with a grin.

“Alas, this is why we don’t incorporate Felix into standard Auror protocol,” Weiss said with a shake of her head. “Mr Malfoy, can I ask you one more favor?”

“Of course,” Draco replied.

“I know Veritaserum is illegal in interrogations in the United Kingdom, but it’s legal here if certain protocols are followed. One of the protocols is that a fully qualified Potions Master has to administer the dose. Jones had to step out. And, well, he’s incompetent anyway. Would you be willing to do it?”

“You’d like me to help legally administer Veritaserum to three known criminals who tried to commit mass genocide and who nearly murdered my daughter? And one of whom called her ‘ _Ast_ ’?”

Weiss smiled. “Yes. If you’re willing.”

“Oh, I am absolutely willing,” Draco affirmed, tapping his fingers together. Harry elbowed him in the arm. “If Harry can come too, that is.”

Weiss looked at Harry. “Very well,” she agreed, then turned to Aster. “Potter-Malfoy, you have a report to write. Wiley already started. You’re to meet him in your office.”

Aster was clearly annoyed that she had to miss the administration of the Veritaserum, but she didn’t question her boss. She did, however, pull a face at her fathers as she left the office.

“Alright then, let’s go find out what we can from these clowns,” Weiss said promptly, standing up and leading Harry and Draco through the halls to the interrogation room. 

“We assume,” she said, opening the door for Harry and Draco before following them inside, “that there are other people implicated in this, and we need to get them all in custody. And we need to find the rest of the potions that are presumably being stockpiled all across the country.”

“Did someone tell you about the aerosol cans?” Harry asked, taking a seat against the wall.

“Yes,” Weiss sighed. “We’ll ask about that, but I’m sure your guess is the same as mine—that they were planning for administration through the air in areas without central water supply.”

“Fuckers,” Harry said.

Weiss looked amused. “Quite, Mr Potter.”

Two other Aurors entered the room, introducing themselves as the Deputy Head and the Junior Deputy Head Aurors. They were joined by a representative of MACUSA’s judiciary and Olivia Cartwright, who began setting up a series of magical hologram screens.

“I don’t miss this part of the job,” Harry remarked quietly to Draco.

“That’s no surprise,” Draco drawled, “given that you are unable to properly maintain a simple shopping list, much less proper documentation of a sensitive legal nature.”

Harry turned towards Draco menacingly, and pointed a finger at him. “I have gotten way better about that, and you know it!”

“Sure, Potter,” Draco snarked.

The bickering was cut short when a guard brought in the first criminal—the one who seemed to be the leader.

“Mr Overton,” Weiss began, indicating that Olivia should begin the stenographic charms. “You are in Auror custody under suspicion of intent to murder, breach of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, possession of illegal potions, theft of restricted potions ingredients, assault of two Aurors, assault of two civilians working for MACUSA, and genocide. MACUSA is exercising its right to administer Veritaserum under Section 487.5B of the Constitution of the Magical United States. You have the right to refuse Veritaserum, but should you choose to exercise that right, you will be presumed guilty of all charges and, given the nature of your charges, your case expedited for capital punishment. Do you understand?”

Draco’s eyebrows rose and he whispered to Harry, “These Americans don’t fuck around.”

Harry nodded, eyes narrowed at Overton.

Weiss continued. “Should you accept the Veritaserum, you will gain immunity from the sentence of capital punishment. How do you wish to proceed?”

Overton glared at Weiss. “I will take the damn potion.”

“Mr Draco Malfoy, certified Potions Master, will administer the potion.” Weiss indicated for Draco to approach the table where the Veritaserum sat in a crystal phial next to a glass of water.

Draco rose and picked up the phial. He gently removed the wax seal from the phial and smelled the potion. He held it up to the light, tilting the phial. He cast a number of spells at the potion. “I certify that this potion is Veritaserum of the standard strength and quality, insofar as diagnostic charms can detect.”

Olivia’s stenographic charm’s quill scratched away at the paper.

Draco carefully dripped three drops of the potion into the glass of water and handed it to Overton. Overton glared at Draco, then drank the glass of water.

Draco cast a Tempus and waited as two minutes passed, then he began the standard questions to ascertain the efficacy of Veritaserum. 

There had been quite a controversy at the International Congress of Potioneers in 2010 when the group was tasked with designing best practice questions for Veritaserum administration that would not be overly personal or embarrassing. The controversy stemmed from the fact that questions had to be invasive in order to discern the efficacy of the potion, and the potioneers could not reach consensus about what types of invasive questions were effective but not gratuitously embarrassing. Draco had attended this conference and when he returned home he’d ranted to Harry for two straight weeks. “I swear to Salazar, Potter,” he’d said with wild eyes from too little sleep caring for three-year-old twins, “we argued for three hours about whether asking someone what colour underwear they were wearing constitutes cruel and unusual punishment under the Pyrenees Conventions.” Eventually they’d settled on a set of fairly innocuous questions, but they conducted a fair bit of research to determine the acceptable time-frame for responses—if a person on Veritaserum waited more than five seconds before answering, it was widely considered that the dose wasn’t working.

“What is your full name?” Draco asked.

“Leander Thomas Overton.”

“When you were a child, what did you want to do when you grew up?”

Overton’s ears turned red. “I wanted to be a school teacher.”

“What’s the most memorable gift you received in childhood?”

“I—” Overton looked like he was trying not to answer, but one, two, “A toy broomstick.”

Draco nodded, satisfied, and sat back down. It would fall to Weiss to conduct the investigation.

“Mr Overton,” she began, pacing back and forth in front of the man. “Describe the potion you and your associates were making.”

“It’s called Rejoov. It is a potent poison that we modified to activate only if the person ingesting it was a No-Maj.”

Harry reached over and laced his fingers through Draco’s. Images, unbidden, flashed through their minds. A teacher suspended over a table being eaten by a snake. A mark in the sky over the Quidditch World Cup. Harry squeezed Draco’s fingers.

“And what did you intend to do with this potion?” Weiss continued, a look of loathing on her face.

Overton’s face was livid, but he answered. “We planned to distribute the potion across the entire country.”

“And what was the intended goal?”

“To kill all No-Majs in the country.”

Weiss briefly exchanged a glance with her Deputy, then turned back to Overton. “Why?”

Overton’s eyes took on a manic glint. “Because they’re going to be the death of us all! They’re killing the planet! Florida is half underwater. _Half!_ They can’t agree on any plan to stop the devastation! There are too many people on this godforsaken planet, and they all consume too many resources, and there is no political will to enact changes! It’s kill them now, or we all die! It’s our only chance! How can you not see that?”

Draco squeezed Harry’s hand. “Merlin,” he whispered. 

“Where are the potions stored?”

“In storerooms across the country. The storerooms don’t allow magic, so it’s impossible to steal the potions or destroy them where they are with magic. We didn’t want anyone to be able to easily Vanish them all or something.”

Harry and Draco watched on, horrified, as Overton answered questions for another ten minutes. Then Weiss was finished and the Aurors led Overton out of the room, bringing in a second man.

Harry stiffened upon seeing the man again. There was something familiar about him. 

After Weiss read the man his charges and he agreed to take Veritaserum, Draco rose slowly to retrieve the phial. He repeated his tests (redundant, but part of the protocol, since it was possible that the potion could have been tampered with since the last administration), and pronounced that it was, indeed, Veritaserum.

Draco dosed the Veritaserum into the water glass with a look of pure loathing on his face. He turned and handed the glass to the man.

“What is your full name?”

“Michael Joseph Smith.”

“When you were a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?”

The man was trying to look bored, but he was unable to mask his fear. “An Auror.”

Weiss, in her chair, pressed her lips together as if trying to force herself to stay silent.

“What was the most memorable gift you received in your childhood?”

The man stuck his chin out and looking straight in Draco’s eyes, said, “A Healer’s kit.”

“Are you the man we met in Aster’s apartment?”

Harry’s eyes widened. _Oh._

The man’s eyes turned challenging. “Yes,” he spat. 

“How were you disguised?”

“Glamours.”

“Did you enjoy fucking my daughter while you were trying to pry information out of her?”

“I—but—yes. Yes!” he spat, angry and embarrassed. 

“Mr Malfoy!” Weiss was on her feet. She gave Draco an annoyed look and gestured for him to return to his chair. 

“The Veritaserum is in effect, Head Auror Weiss,” Draco said, pretending to be contrite while Weiss could see him. But once she turned her back he smirked at Harry. Harry flicked Draco’s leg, but couldn’t stop a half-smile from appearing on his own face. 

Weiss began to ask Glenn—for Harry and Draco couldn’t think of him as anything but Glenn—the same questions she’d asked Overton, and Glenn corroborated the information.

“Why?” Weiss asked, as she’d asked Overton.

“All it takes is the elimination of one generation. Break the link in time between one generation and the next, and it’s game over forever. One generation! That’s the only price to pay, and then no No-Majs, forever! We’d have moved on to every country in the world systematically while the authorities were dealing with the fallout and chaos at home.”

Weiss pinched the bridge of her nose, took a deep breath, and began to systematically ask more questions to determine the identities and locations of all their associates and the locations of all the finished potions.

When the interrogations were over, Harry and Draco walked back to Aster’s office. Draco walked with a hand on the small of Harry’s back, and Harry scanned the halls for signs of trouble. It had been a long time since they’d felt so jumpy.

“Well,” Draco drawled eventually, as they rounded a corner, “It’s been awhile since we’ve dealt with the threat of Muggle genocide. It’s like old times.”

Harry snorted. “I wonder what Voldemort would’ve thought of the climate change rationale. In a way it’s a nice change from the hackneyed blood-purity rubbish.”

Draco chuckled and said, “Indeed.” But he pulled Harry a little closer in his arm as they entered Aster’s office.

Aster sat at her desk, her hair magicked on top of her head in a big pile. She had on her reading glasses as she stared at a magical hologram. One of her feet was planted on the front of her chair, her knee high behind the desk, as she leaned forwards to look at her work. 

Upon seeing her, Harry and Draco both broke into huge smiles. Harry bounded across the office and wrapped her in a big hug from behind. “I love you,” he said, kissing her hair. “Have I told you that today?”

Aster looked up at him and smiled. “I love you, too, Dad.” She leaned back in her chair. “So are you going to tell us how you managed to cast a Shield that could’ve probably stopped a nuclear bomb?”

Harry laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “Honestly? I have no idea. I’m guessing Felix is the reason I was able to do that.”

“Luck is not chance, Potter—how many times do I have to tell you?” Draco admonished. “Your skill and power was there to begin with.”

“I still think you should teach Defence, Dad. You could offer private classes if you don’t want to teach at Hogwarts. It’s not too late, you know. You’re not _super_ old yet.”

“Gee, thanks, Aster,” Harry said, rolling his eyes and sitting in one of her office chairs. “Maybe,” he added, more quietly.

Draco smiled.

“Has the Felix worn off yet?” Aster asked, tilting her head at them.

“Maybe a bit, but I still have that can-do feeling,” Harry answered.

“That could just be adrenaline,” Draco said sensibly. He cast a Tempus, which showed the time to be 1 o’clock in the afternoon. “But the Felix should probably work for another couple hours at least.”

“I have to finish these reports.” Aster pouted. “I don’t want you to waste your Felix day watching me write reports.”

“We don’t mind,” Harry said with a grin, in that way only a loving parent who missed their child could.

Draco’s phone dinged and he pulled it out. His face brightened, and he looked up with smiling eyes. “Teddy. Victoire is pregnant.”

Harry jumped up from his seat and wrapped Draco in a hug, too overcome with joy to speak.

“Oh, thank Merlin,” Aster said. “I really didn’t want to be a surrogate.”

Draco laughed, and texted a response to Teddy. “He’s invited us over for a celebration dinner at the Burrow if we can get back in time. Think we can make it?”

Harry beamed. “Yes!” He turned to Aster. “Come for a visit this weekend, Aster? We can go out to the Smoking Cauldron.”

Aster smiled. “Oh, fine. I’ll come after work on Friday, okay? If it’s okay that I get in late?”

Harry hugged her again. “Of course. Though we’re old, so we might be asleep when you get home.”

Draco snorted. “Aster, there is no chance your dad will fall asleep if he knows you’re coming home. Just take pity on us and don’t dawdle, because we will be resorting to potions to stay awake otherwise.”

“Okay,” she said. “Go! Give Teddy and Victoire a hug from me.”

Draco kissed her cheek and they gathered their things. He opened the door and on the other side stood Gordon Wolf with his hand poised to knock.

Draco turned around and gave Harry a sly grin, then turned back and intoned, “Gordon! Good to see you. We’re just leaving, so Aster is all yours.”

Gordon gave them a confused look as they waved at Aster one last time and left the office.

* * *

Harry and Draco Flooed back to Aster’s for their things and Portkeyed back to Britain, making it back by seven o’clock GMT. They Apparated to the Burrow to celebrate with the family, and then back home, where Harry and Draco fell into bed exhausted. As the Felix Felicis wore off, they felt more and more depleted. 

Harry threw his glasses on the bedside table and rolled onto one elbow to look at Draco, who was sprawled out with his eyes closed and an arm thrown over his face. “I’m getting too old for this,” Harry said.

Draco laughed. “I’m not sure age is really relevant here. There’s no _right_ age to fight genocidal maniacs.”

Harry sighed, thinking of his childhood. “True.”

“Hey,” Draco said, opening one eye. “Come here.” He extended his arm and Harry rolled over, allowing Draco to pull him in.

“I’m so happy for Teddy and Victoire,” Harry murmured into Draco’s chest with a smile.

“Me too.” Draco ran his hand through Harry’s messy hair. “And I can’t believe Scorpius showed up at the Burrow with Elsior Boot.”

“I know!” Harry picked up his head to look at Draco. “Do you think we embarrassed him too much?”

“Just enough, I’d say,” Draco drawled. “Though Hermione dragging us away by the elbows probably saved the day, from Scorpius’s perspective.”

Harry snorted. “They make a good-looking couple.”

“Not as good-looking as us,” Draco said, closing his eyes again.

“Well,” said Harry, “who is?” He yawned.

“I think Elsior seems good for Scorpius,” Draco murmured, half asleep, his hand running through Harry’s hair.

“Yeah, seems like it. Don’t let me get too attached to him, okay? I don’t want to be upset if they break up.”

“Harry, you’re already attached. Didn’t you leave in the middle of the dinner party to send an owl to Terry Boot inviting them over for dinner?”

Harry laughed. “Maybe I did.”

“You suffer from a Gryffindorish incapacity for circumspection.”

“Oh shut up, you prat,” Harry murmured. “You’re attached, too. I saw you talking Potions with Elsior at dinner.”

Draco chuckled. “The boy knows his potions! Do you think he was impressed with me?”

“He’s a Ravenclaw; of course he was impressed with you.” Harry yawned again.

A few minutes passed in silence as their tired bodies headed for sleep. Then, with a start, Draco sat straight up in bed. “Harry!”

Harry jumped to his feet, wand raised. “What? What?”

Draco stood slowly, all signs of tiredness gone from his smiling face. “I figured it out!”

“ _What?_ ”

“The Felix Felicis intended for group consumption! It’s the Occamy! The _Occamy!_ ” 

Harry sat down on the bed, his hand to his chest, his heart racing. “Jesus Christ, Draco, don’t scare me like that.”

Draco rushed out of the bedroom, heading for his office. “It’s the Occamy! How did I miss it?” his elated voice shouted from the hallway.

Harry lay back in bed and closed his eyes, pulling the covers around his shoulders. He rolled onto his side and smiled.

It had been a perfect day.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from an Emily Dickinson poem, ["Luck is not chance."](https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/luck-not-chance-1350)
> 
> Heavy allusion to _Oryx and Crake_ by Margaret Atwood. If you haven't read it, go read it right now.
> 
> Find me at [Tumblr](https://aibidil.tumblr.com).


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